


Laws of Magnetics

by hostagesfic



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Multi, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-07
Updated: 2014-03-07
Packaged: 2018-01-14 21:15:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,906
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1279093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hostagesfic/pseuds/hostagesfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s as worked up as Louis, even though he wears it quieter. Eleanor can feel it in his kiss, the trembling and the adrenaline, and she squeezes his arm, turns to Louis. “I can’t stay-”</p><p>“Stay,” Harry says roughly, lips softly damp against the shell of her ear. “Stay, Louis- Louis said he’d fuck you, I wanna- see, missed you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Laws of Magnetics

**Author's Note:**

> I've been sitting on this a year and it's not getting any more plotty, so! Thanks to P for the encouragement and picking a summary when I was indecisive. Please note: as I mentioned, it's been a year since this was written, so the Brits referred to are the 2013 Brits.

They’ve only come close to being caught the one time.

It’s the Brits, and Eleanor has been led backstage for a minute-long greeting before they all leave; Louis appears from behind Preston and grabs her shoulders, kisses her wildly, and Eleanor’s laughing and Niall is giggling beside them.

“C’mere, c’mon,” Louis urges, pulling her forward past staff and entourage, through a swinging door. “Oh my god,” she rolls her eyes, “Lou, a toilet, really-” but then Harry is stepping out of a stall and grinning, waving a little. Eleanor forgets her protests to hug him, and his arms go around her waist, lift her off her feet for a kiss. He’s as worked up as Louis, even though he wears it quieter. Eleanor can feel it in his kiss, the trembling and the adrenaline, and she squeezes his arm, turns to Louis. “I can’t stay-”

“Stay,” Harry says roughly, lips softly damp against the shell of her ear. “Stay, Louis- Louis said he’d fuck you, I wanna- see, missed you.”

Eleanor closes her eyes. “God,” she says, “Okay, alright.”

Louis is already pushing his jeans down, open at the crotch, tugging at his prick, and Eleanor wonders if they started before she got here. She hopes so, because it’s a lovely visual, warms her up from her toes to the pit of her stomach, sends a flush down her neck to meet it. “Stall,” Louis says, “Exhibitionists, the both of you.” His voice is tight, and Eleanor _aches_ for him.

The performance that night had been so on, and she can see it still in their veins, the way they move; Harry’s determined grip on her as he guides her into the nearest stall, Louis’ walk as he follows them. 

It’s not even the largest stall, and Eleanor’s shoe is bumping the toilet basin. Harry steps on her other foot and immediately apologizes, but it’s not worth bothering with. Eleanor’s gone wet in her underwear, can feel it, and all that matters is the way Louis watches her as he rolls a condom down his cock. Harry palms at her stomach, and his hand is pure heat through the thin material of her shirt. His fingers edge down past the waistband of her pants and Eleanor’s head drops back against his shoulder. “Fuck, fuck,” she says, “Okay, let’s- help, yeah?”

Between them, they get her trousers down to mid thigh, and Louis is just. Watching, leant back against the opposite wall of the stall, hand loose around the base of his dick, waiting for them to work it out. “Lazy arse,” Harry says, and Louis laughs. “‘Bout to be doing all the work, mate, don’t kid yourself.”

Eleanor shimmies and squirms to get the trousers down, and they’re just above her ankles when she groans. “Shoes,” she mumbles, and doesn’t have time to explain before Harry’s _picking her up_ , arms under hers and pulling her legs up.

“Shit,” she spits, half-surprised and- not even, just wholly impressed. She can feel the satisfied smile he presses into her hair. The trousers are bunched around her calves, still, keeping her legs locked together, but Louis steps in close and presses them up and Eleanor’s bent in half between them and her thighs will kill tomorrow, but Louis is stretching her underwear to the side and rubbing the head of his dick over her cunt and fuck it all.

She doesn’t even have time to protest his delay before he’s stepping even closer- Eleanor thinks if she looked down she’d probably seen his feet framing Harry’s, they’re that close- his prick slowly pressing in until the angle physically makes any more impossible.

They’ve tried this before; at home, on wide mattresses where there’s _room_ for Louis to fold her up, legs pressed together and pushed up, held by Louis’ strong chest and shoulder, or held to the side so Harry can really fuck her deep like she likes, but it’s obviously harder like this. The height difference means that Louis has to go up on his toes if he’s going to thrust, and Eleanor would laugh but he might stop, and that’s the worst possibility in the world right now. The other option is a little silly, too, when Harry bounces her in his arms, fucking her up and down on Louis’ cock, but they manage a semi-rhythm in the end that still manages to have Eleanor biting back noises dangerously loud for an O2 bathroom.

Louis is breathing harshly, forehead against her shoulder, hands braced on her thigh and the wall behind them, and Harry is making soft, encouraging noises at both of them, and they’re being stupid, Eleanor knows, so fucking stupid. The stall door isn’t even fastened, even though it’s held shut but for the last two inches by Harry’s elbow and Louis’ hip, and it’s banging against the lock on every move they make.

Harry’s grip on her shifts slightly and Louis’ cock slips out- they all whine, and Harry laughs a little, breathless, “sorry, sorry,” he murmurs. Louis lines himself up again and Eleanor’s so tight in anticipation that it’s slower even than before, but then he’s settled and they don’t move as much, Louis’ hips churning, his hands tight on Eleanor’s legs, pushing them up tight against her chest. She can’t help the way she keeps clenching around him, everything just a little _too_ much, and her ribs ache and her sides are cramping up and Eleanor swears, suddenly, grabbing for Louis’ shoulders and coming so fast she can’t breathe.

“Shit,” Louis says, chest shaking, and he’s up on his toes, trying to stay still for her. “Babe, yeah.”

Harry nuzzles her ear, breath warm through her hair and against the side of her face, and Eleanor opens her eyes, almost hurting from how tight she’d squinched them shut. “Fuck,” she laughs, “hurry the fuck up, Lou.”

Louis laughs, sounding high-pitched and relieved, and leans up to kiss her, beginning to move again. He’s rough, like this, with the hurry and the nerves and the adrenaline, and Eleanor loves it, loves the way he bites her lip thoughtlessly and licks into her mouth completely off-rhythm of how he’s fucking her. Loves the drag of his prick inside her and how she could get off again so easy on it; she won’t, she’ll have to wait until later, when she can get a hand or a mouth on her, but the boys are good at laters, and for now she gets to watch Louis shake apart, pressed tight up against her, hands fumbling to reach back for Harry, pull him in close too as he comes, throbbing and long inside her.

“Yeah,” Harry says, after a moment, leaning forward to kiss Louis, just a gentle press of lips to his cheek and nose and the corner of his mouth as he lifts his head. “That was gorgeous.”

“Wish we had time for you,” Eleanor says, and bats at Louis’ arms. “Get off me, babe. You’re all sweaty and heavy and I’m never gonna walk again.”

Louis grins, tiredly, and slowly eases back, sliding off the condom and tossing it, untied, into the bin beside the toilet. “Ew,” Eleanor and Harry say in unison, and he just shrugs. “You’re the ones in such a hurry. Stealing my glow, to be honest.”

Harry sets Eleanor down gently, making sure she’s got her balance before kneeling down to untangle her trousers and pull them up for her. Her underwear are really rather pitifully ruined, and she’d rather take them off, but it’d take too long. Harry helps her smooth the stretched material out and then he’s buttoning her trousers carefully, rubbing her hip with his thumb when he’s done.

Louis is still watching them when they look up, hasn’t even bothered putting his dick away, which is. Pretty typical, but still. Eleanor sighs at him and steps in to kiss him and tuck his prick back into his pants. Harry’s arms go around her waist and he zips Louis’ fly, flicks the button with practised ease. Louis grins at them, smugly, and Eleanor hits his arm. “And you said you were doing all the work,” she says.

“Well,” Louis says, “I didn’t hear any complaints.”

They’re tumbling out of the stall and washing hands cursorily in the sinks before it really sinks in; Harry and Louis have just won another Brit, and they’re about to leave for an after party, and they won’t get home until much, much later. Eleanor feels suddenly tired, and strangely longs for the quiet of their big bedroom at home. Louis kisses her cheek, gently. “You look brill tonight, love,” he says, and Harry nods, wiping water off from around the sink with a towel. He’s ridiculous, Eleanor thinks, and pulls him in by the sleeve for a kiss, too.

“Alright,” Louis says, “We really should go.”

“Yeah,” Harry nods, and they’re just leaving, half through the door, too fucked out to really think about the fact that the three of them probably shouldn’t exit together, when a woman in a staff badge bumps into Eleanor head-on.

“Sorry,” Eleanor says, automatically, and the woman looks up.

They register the situation just as she does, and Eleanor freezes, looking at Louis. His eyes have gone wide and it’s obvious that he’s as speechless as Eleanor is.

“So next time could you please lock the bloody door, mate,” Harry says, loudly, startling all of them, and the woman’s eyes snap to him at once.

Louis thaws, shoulders dropping, and laughs. It’s a little too brittle, but nobody besides the band would know it. “Sorry, mate,” he says, wrapping his arm around Eleanor’s shoulders and moving them forward. “Won’t happen again.”

“Better not,” Harry grumbles, stomping off in the opposite direction, and Eleanor’s face feels red-hot as she meets the woman’s eyes. This time, she looks amused and slightly embarrassed, but entirely understanding, and they’re _good_. They’re okay, and it’s alright.

“Jesus,” Louis hisses, when they’re out of earshot, and just before Eleanor’s whisked away so the boys can get taxied to their scheduled after party appearances. “Sorry.”

Eleanor shakes her head, feeling a bit numb still, and lets herself melt into his chest for a long goodbye. “Just check on Harry,” she says, watching from the nest of Louis’ arms as Harry laughs over something with one of the boys’ security. “I’ll see you at home later, right?”

“Right,” Louis nods, and kisses the top of her head. His hand is warm on her side, stirs an echo of earlier when it slides to the spot Harry’s had been on her stomach. Eleanor shivers. “Don’t,” she huffs, and he laughs a little. “What?”

“You won’t be home for hours,” she says, turning around in his arms, accusative. “Don’t start something you can’t finish.”

Louis jerks his head at someone, over her shoulder. When she looks, it’s Harry, and they’re apparently carrying on another silent conversation. Louis glances back at her. “Won’t be the only one waiting,” he says, low.

Eleanor punches him in the side, but she’s too warm all the way home, pressing the heel of her hand into her thigh in the back of the cab, feeling the phantom throb and pulse inside her.

 _fuck you_ , she texts Louis.

 _;)_ he sends back, and she closes her eyes, breathes deeply.

She’s unlocking the door when her phone buzzes again.

_we’ll be home soon._

 


End file.
